Gone
by Murrinholi
Summary: I....I..." she stammers, taking her hand out of mine. "Jethro... I can't..." her lip trembles as she kisses me softly on the lips. "We'll always have Paris." she whispers. Jibbs. - Seriously Angsty first Chapter. My take on 'Paris' in second chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**This idea came to me a while ago, I decided to write the first few parts before I posted it. I have written three parts, I promise it get's better. Thank-you to Lauren & Ellie for their help. - Don't kill me... yet! :) Please Review, they make me smile & I need to smile today!! **

--...

She didn't notice the daylight fade gradually into darkness as she sat rigid on the floor, her back against the sofa, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. The sun set on the day, an orange glow flooding the small room until the light turned into the dusk of twilight. By the time she shook herself back into reality, it was almost pitch black and darkness surrounded her like some oppressive monster. She reached out slowly and flicked on the small lamp on the table beside her. Though it was only a dim light, the beams flooded the room and seemed to uncover every corner and crevice, and it stung her eyes, causing her to squint and blink rapidly a few times.

The light brought her back from the faraway world she had been inhabiting and increased her awareness of the room around her and the connotations that it held. It surprised her somewhat how she could sit in the one place for so long yet not feel as though she had been there at all. She may well have visited the same space within the same four walls while on the journey through her mind, but then it had been encased in a memory and part of something so different that it hardly seemed to be the same location at all.

Feeling slightly more awake, her feet solidly standing on harsh reality, she eased herself slowly up from the floor until she was perched on the edge of the sofa behind her, on which she had spent all of the previous evening, when she had not been woken by worry, sleeping awkwardly. Out of the corner of her tierd eyes, she  
glanced at the table by her side, at the phone, next to which lay her cell, as if one or the other might ring if she stared at them long enough. But she knew by now that no amount of willpower would accomplish this, otherwise it surely would have happened already as she had spent eery second wishing desperately for the familiar tone to reach her ears.

She had been escorted home to rest. After all what could she do at work that she couldn't do at home? She had battled hard to stay, but one thing and one thing alone made the descion for her.

Her eyes were next caught by a large photograph framed by a neat wooden border standing beside the two phones. The smiling couple staring at her through the glass she should have known so well, but suddenly they seemed genuinely foreign to her. Normally, she found that when she looked at that particular picture she saw her own face and the smile of that woman echoed her own. But now, she saw no resemblance in their emotions and the glass of the frame seemed to form a barrier between the two: between the happy and the sad, the past and the present.

**But what about the future?**

She turned her head away in sudden dismay, but was not at all comforted as her gaze was caught by another picture across the room. It was possibly her favourite of all the photographs that she owned; his sparkling blue eyes that she loved so much staring back at her as she sat lonely on the sofa. As she looked into his honest, twinkling eyes, it almost felt as though he was there in person, looking back at her, his eyes smiling for her. But almost as soon as she found herself thinking this, she subconsciously rebuked herself and was reminded bitterly that he wasn't there, and she couldn't even find a vague idea floating through her info as to where he might be, no-one knew.

As the terrifying thought that she might never know came upon her, she found herself dreading the day that she might not be able to recall the sound of his voice, to remeber how his hands felt as he held her or what it was like to have him press his lips up against hers. She feared that a time may come when the only vision she could draw of him in her mind would be images from photographs that she had stared at so many times, that he had now become that face captured in a split second, and the real person had begun to slip away.

Keen to banish these kind of horrifying thoughts from her mind, she stood up slowly and made her way across the room, through a door, up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Shivering a little, she opened up her closet to search for a sweater to put on to try and warm her up slightly, suddenly cold now that the light of the day had gone. As she stared into the row of her clothes and hangers, the first thing that caught her eye was a sweater of his that was hanging at a slightly odd angle, imploring her to pick it up. She tugged it gently off the hanger and held it at arms length, recognising it and pinning a date to it: his birthday, not even a month again, when she had given it to him.

Raising her hands into the air, she slipped the jumper over her arms and struggled in it for a minute before her head emerged through the hole at the top. She felt swamped for a moment as the heavy grey fabric encased her body. Bought to fit his broader size, it seemed ridiculously baggy when draped over her much smaller frame. As she breathed in, she caught a slight hint of his familiar scent, which seemed to be embedded in the sweater. Sawdust. This comforted her somewhat and for a moment she almost felt like he was there with her again. She closed her eyes, and felt his arms wrapped tightly around her, securing her. She felt herself leaning backwards slightly into his chest...

But she was brought back to her senses suddenly and she stumbled slightly, opening her eyes and managing to regain her balance. Letting out a small sigh, she knocked the door of the closet closed with her hand, which was hidden up one of the sleeves of the sweater that was a couple of inches too long for her arm.As the door swung closed with a faint, low squeak, her reflection came into view in the mirror that hung in front of the closet. She almost turned away, but caught herself and stepped a little closer to the sheet of glass. She almost felt as though she was looking at another photograph, another memory pinned on the wall. But the expression on the face of the woman in this picture seemed slightly alien to her and it was something that she wasn't sure she had felt before. This was something new and it daunted her.

She let out a short sob as delayed realisation kicked in and it registered that this was her; it wasn't an image, a prediction or a memory. It was the real, it was now. Her ecstatic smile had turned into a face creased with anxiety and dead in the past Thirty-two hours, no matter how hard she may have tried to pretend that none of it was happening. She gave in and let the silent tears trickle slowly down her cheeks as she watched herself in the mirror. She reached out with her hands and flattened the sweater over her tummy, leaving her hands to rest there.

It was overwhelming to think that there was a small being inside her at that moment, a tiny human beginning to grown under the protection of her body. This life was in her hands, and was her responsibility, and the thought daunted her slightly despite her excitement. That is what made her come home. Made her leave the welcomed distraction of the office.

**The search.**

Through her tears, she smiled as she thought of this person that she and Jethro had created together, the baby that would depend solely on them for everything over so many years of it's life.

The smiled faded as she once again reminded herself of the space beside her, the empty bed, the abandoned romantic meal... and most importantly, the fact that the Father of this precious baby had no idea that his new Son or Daughter even existed. Her quiet tears turned into louder cries as she hugged his sweater tightly to her, her arms around her stomach, as though that would somehow magically bring him suddenly back to them.

She sank down onto the vast bed, neatly made from two morning's before after they had both got up. The worst thing seemed to be the uncertainty, the not knowing. She was on edge all the time, constantly keeping half an ear out for the ring of the phone or the slam of the front door, keeping one eye alert all the time for his face in the crowds of people on the street, the Navy yard, the Bullpen, everywhere.

All of these senses were hopeful, optimistic and had almost convinced her that he was alive and fine and they would release him without harm. That he would be home any moment, and that there was some sort of a logical explanation behind the events of the last day's.

But every now and then, her pessimistic viewpoint/agent side whispered menacingly in her ear and warned her of the worst case scenario, the bad news that no one wanted to head.

**Gone.**

**Dead.**

**Forever.**

She rolled over onto her side and curled up in a tight ball, trying to squeeze this though out of her mind. It would all be okay... everything would turn out fine. It had to. She couldn't be left on her own; she wouldn't be able to cope. She didn't want to have to be able to cope without him. She wanted to share every moment of her life with him, every moment of their child's life. She had never even felt the need to imagine she wouldn't, until now.

"Where are you, Jethro?" she sobbed, her whisper sounding as loud as a scream in the silence of her empty townhouse.

She turned her face down into his pillow and cried all the tears she had inside her, and more. The tears of her child who might never know their Father. This possibility was too much for her to cope with. Instead, she turned her vulnerable mind back to it's state of alert, listening fervently for the telephone to ring. Hand firmly clasped on her cell and weapon

She wouldn't face that eventuality until it occurred, _if_ it ever did.

She thought back to the various photographs of the cheerful faces that were scattered around her home. She found herself wondering if the glass obstacle of the frame would ever break so she could find herself smiling again.

**-- TBC ... Reviews appreciated. :)**


	2. Paris

**Since I'm nice..(ish), and not going to be around over the weekend. I thought i'd post the second part tonight/this morning. The text in _italics_ are the past.. Thankyou so much for all your reviews, they made me smile! :) - Anyways this is how I think it 'ended' - maybe slightly 'out of character', but I like it!**

--

_And the rain starts falling, the skies are grey, water soaking the denim on my trousers to form a heavy material that's trying to stop me from getting there, prevent me, hold me back. It's like the thoughts in my mind, the ones that I'm ignoring with every fighting breath against the lactic acid and oxygen debt inducing an ache in every muscle that's screaming for me to stop._

_But stopping isn't an option. Saving time, holding onto the seconds that are passing and I'm acutely aware that I might not get there; there's a voice telling me that. A tick tock reverberating around in my mind, if only it would slow, if I could turn the volume down and be ignorant to the passing minutes that are wasting away. If I concentrate on the information that I've firmly remembered from a scrap piece of paper that's scrunched up in my pocket then I can keep going, focus and run._

_The sidewalks are lethal with hidden frost and I dodge them as best I can, I can't understand how others are just walking down the street as if today is an ordinary day, their lives continue normally while everything to me seems to be braking to a halt. The roads are busy with angry drivers, their annoyance at the traffic reflecting in the red lights they are parked behind, several impatient faces peering through their misty windscreens. It's a haze, everything's blurring into one, my feet moving automatically, I'm running to where I need to go but consciously thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. A humming fills my ears, there's a drum of people speaking but it's as though they're on the other side of a vacuum. _

_They don't understand how can they? The seem to ignore my polite, yet urgently voiced "Excuse Me's", as I hurry passed them. Their scarves are wrapped around themselves, just a mimic of the way they have wrapped themselves in their own lives, oblivious to anything that might be going on somewhere else. You can call me a hypocrite for returning the same attitude but I can't think of anything more important than what's flooding every thought of me. Another five minutes gone. I run into the road to cross, barely paying attention until the ear splitting squeal of breaks jars the numbed silence and the metal work halts inches from my hurrying frame._

_"Do you have a death wish or something, DAM French" The driver roars in a thick English accent, winding down the window. That frustrated expression etched on his face in a mirror image of all who are impatient to reach their destination. Worry blanks mine so it hardly shows and I holler something back which sounds like "Sorry" but it's as though the air is just wisped into my mouth to shape words of it's own accord, I take no notice._

_Shoppers, I never noticed how slowly they walk before, pausing every now and then to greet someone they recognise, blocking the sidewalk with their bags and huddle together as though they own that piece of land. I skirt around them, one of their many crammed full bags knocking my knee and they tut to themselves about how I interrupted their conversation for a second._

_And that seconds passed now, adding to the time I'm wasting trying to push myself to go faster. I'd look at my watch but glancing at my wrist takes my vision away from the path ahead. The tower clock on the train station down the street is blurred, the face I can't quite read but if I hope and pray that it's not too late then..._

_My legs are tired, I can see my breath hanging on the air in front of me, the bruised sky ahead begins to bleed rain again, tear drops of water fall heavily to the sidewalk in an attempt to wash away the grey with a liquid mirror. It pinpricks my skin, running down my cheeks and a rumble echoes around the sky from a non visible starting point, rolling through the clouds, an audible taunt of the weather._

_Five to three. The clock bares that message, then hands continue to move as I sprint the last ten feet to the entrance of the station. Warmth hits me as I hurry inside, boards over head flash information about times and departures. Many people litter the foyer, some reading newspapers, others queuing for tickets. I scan the lighted signs, searching to the train to Rome, words merging together as I frantically look._

_"Fifteen hundred hours direct train from Paris to Rome is leaving from platform four in two minutes. This is the last call for all passengers for Rome central, to platform four..." The announcer called this message in several languages before reaching English._

_At least I know that she hasn't gone yet, unless she managed to get an earlier train. I push this thought firmly to the back of my mind, the sign reads that platform four is over the bridge, the trains pulled into the station, a few solitary people still standing on the platform, getting ready to board. I pause for a moment and run to the side of the bridge, looking over, turning my head to the left and right to catch a glimpse of her, a sign._

_There's a figure in a black coat, a holdall pulling at one shoulder, delving into her pocket to find her ticket. I'd recognise her anywhere, the red hair, the perfect face. "Jenny", I yell over the barrier, beginning to run over the rest of the bridge when she looks up but then hurriedly tries to move before I can reach her. _

_"Jenny"_

_The steep bank meets my feet and I skid down it in seconds, haring along the platform, passed the packed carriages. "Jen" she stops, not facing me as though she's realised that she can't escape, thought that she could leave without saying goodbye, without a proper explanation. Without farewell._

_I wrench the piece of paper out of my pocket. "What is this?" I cry as she edges towards the train, trying to avoid my eye line._

_"Leave it" and it's a plead I can tell, as she turns around she's hiding how she really feels, her voice sounds fake as though it's a cover for something she won't let escape. The words mean nothing, and excuse and a poor one at that._

_"I will not leave it alone" Some people are turning their heads to watch. A silence falls between us, a few drops of rain trickling down from my hair and I refuse to speak quietly. "You just left a letter? Jen please..."_

_"It can't go on like this!" she lifts her face to stare at mine, hurt lurking behind her eyes. Her voice is shouting, the words linger on the air waiting to be taken in, understood. Her eyes glitter strangely in the light. "I'm sorry" she whispers, reaching out her hand to take mine briefly. "I can't... we can't..."_

_"Why?" It's a question I've asked so many times even though I've heard the answer the equal amount. I know why but won't accept it. "All that matters is we love each other, and we do..." I catch the look on her face "Don't we?"_

_"Why do you have to make this so difficult? It's wrong Jethro, it really is, we can't risk other people getting hurt, we just can't be together it's too dangerous. They won't allow it, your my boss."_

_"I don't care! All I know is that it doesn't feel wrong." I pause. "Do you love me? If you say you don't, I'll walk away," I persist, my face set. "Look at me and tell me you don't love me."_

_She angrily brushes a tear away from her eye and lowers her gaze again. "Stop it..."_

_I grab her by the shoulders, something catching at the back of my throat as I lower my head to force her to look at me properly._

_"The trains leaving now." A young porter with a thick french accent intrudes, trying to be helpful._

_"Do you need help with your bags?"_

_She blinks, forcing a weak smile but it doesn't stretch to her eyes which are beginning to stream tears. "No, I'm fine" her voice stumbles. "Thank-you"_

_"Tell me you don't love me... Jen?" I look at her imploringly, my eyes clouding with tears which I try to hold back, almost forgetting to breathe as I wait for an answer. The porter moves on, glancing back at us as he leaves. The guard enters the platform, a green flag clasped in his right hand. He makes his way down towards the engine to signal to the other person at the opposite end._

_"I...I..." she stammers, taking her hand out of mine. "Jethro... I can't..." her hand trembles as she kisses me softly on the lips. "We'll always have Paris." she whispers._

_Words fail me, she turns away, I've a million things to say but my mouth won't work, my voice box has drowned in what she's said. She's leaving, getting on the train, looking around one more time, putting her bag on the floor before standing in the doorway. The exit closes, she stands behind the wound down window. I can't hold back the tears now, I stumble forwards, reaching forward to hold onto the window. If I don't let go then perhaps the train won't leave._

_"Open the door and I'll get on" I suddenly say. "A new place a new start, just the two of us..." _

_"No" she shakes her head. "Jethro, please I'm leaving it's over, I've... I've got a post in Rome and it's easier this way, if we don't see each other."_

_"Close our eyes and pretend it'll go away?" I ask ironically, knowing that it won't happen, not seeing how it ever could._

_"We have too" she pleads, ignoring the worried glances from a couple standing behind her._

_I shake my head. "We don't have to do anything! I'll resign, I'll do it right now if it means we can be together, I don't want you to leave."_

_"I have to do whats best" She sniffs, putting a shaking hand to my cheek for a moment, a sad smile across her face. "I'm sorry, I love you."_

_The guard blows the whistle and it pierces the air, the green flag is visible. I can't believe this is happening, the train begins to move. I walk alongside it, trying to keep up but it's picking up speed. "Jen" I whisper almost to myself as I begin to run but it's going to fast. Her face is disappearing, exhaustion and disbelief makes my legs run slower and subconsciously I begin to decelerate to a walk, watching her carriage and her disappearing figure filters into the distance. Her words fill the air around me as I watch her leave, I still refuse to believe it and stutter feebly to myself, leaning against the pillar next to me, my eyes red and blood shot. "Jen... Jen... Jenny"_

_T_hen everything goes black, I can hear myself call out her name. It's more of a whisper now. My eyes are stuck shut, something preventing me from opening them. Slowly I try to raise my hands to my face, but find them bound together tightly. I flex every muscle on my face in an attempt to coax my eyes into opening. When I finally manage to open my eyes panic ensues my body, I'm surrounded by nothing but darkness. The overwhelming stench of death hangs thickly in the air.

**Where am I? **I mumble to the empty room.

--

He's not dead! :) (I'm not that mean.. or am I?)


End file.
